#may or may not make this a full fic

[blackwood4stucky]

of spies and sunshine | aspen blackwood

lloyd hansen x nick fowler | gray man x 355 fusion au

masterpost | mini playlist | official series here

🆃 | word count: 750 | complete

The paralytic was slow-acting but Nick could feel it working. The feeling in his lower extremities went first. It was one thing to see his legs, to know that they were there but it was disconcerting not being able to move them without outside influences. Mace and her merry band of idiots had left mere moments before, the promise of his impending abduction before being tossed into a black site still ringing in his ears. He knew he had to act fast but that was clearly impossible with that damn snake venom sinking its fangs into his veins. A short burst of vibration from his back pocket alerted him that his phone was still on his person. Anger burned through him at not being able to use it. His hands twitched in vain as he tried to move them but he had no such luck. So there he sat, alone in his condo, waiting for that supposed low dose of poison to reach his heart. He knew regardless of who was coming to take him away, the reality was that he would be long dead before anyone could do anything about it.

The loud bang of someone kicking a door in startled him, but his body remained in a state of forced calm. He could only blink in confusion when a single man in tac gear and a mask slowly checked the living room with a silenced gun in his hand. He tried to speak but only the gurgling in his throat could be heard. He could only watch as the man then raced toward him before feeling around his thighs. He looked on in horror as the man dropped his gun only to replace it with a handheld device with a thick needle attached. Without any warning, he felt the sharp point pierce its way into his right thigh. He breathed out shallowly in relief as some kind of cool fluid was released into the thick muscle. The movement in his hands came back first before what he knew now was the antidote froze out any and all traces of the venom in his system. Groaning, he keeled over into the mysterious intruder’s embrace. It was then that he registered words being whispered into his ear.

“You’re alright, sunshine. I’ve got you.”

Nick stiffened slightly, he knew that voice. He also knew that only one person dared to call him by that stupid little nickname. “Lloyd?”

“You back with me, sugar?”

Pulling back to look at the man he hadn’t seen in weeks, confusion marred his features. “What are you doing here?”

“You really think I was going to leave you here to be whisked away to fuckin’ Timbuctoo or some shit?” Lloyd bit out. 

“How did you even—

“Know?” Lloyd asked, cutting him off. “Baby, I’ve been bugging your apartments since the last time you left me.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed at the pet name, he was no one’s baby. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, so you keep reminding me sunshine. You could be though, my baby that is, if you stopped fuckin’ around with that bitch and let a real man like me take care of you.”

A laugh bubbled out of his throat at that. Lloyd was a piece of work but for some reason, he just kept crawling back to him. Perhaps it was the third leg the man had hidden in his pants.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing.” Lloyd rolled his eyes. “I warned you about Mace and yet you went after her like a damn fool. She threw me under the bus one time and I kicked her ass to the curb. Haven’t looked back since.”

“I guess this is your way of saying ‘I told you so’?” Nick asked as he flexed his hands before bracing himself against Lloyd to try and stand.

“Of course not, sunshine. Just that we should never share exes again and you should probably kill her on site the next time you see her. Whatever you two had was toxic anyway.”

“I guess now you’re going to try and convince me that we should also be on again,” he said trailing his freshly moveable hand up Lloyd’s chest.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. This on again off again shit is for losers!”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he looked up at Lloyd through his lashes before mumbling against the crazy man’s lips. “I may have missed you a little…”

[freaktoru]

cant stop thinking about biker!satoru gojo who just can’t wait till the two of you get home to fuck you. he’ll cut your trip home short, wasting no time before pulling up to the nearest empty parking lot and parking his motorcycle. he’ll impatiently yank your helmets off—letting them drop to the ground, revealing his messy, white helmet hair, right before he urgently presses his lips against yours. it’s not his fault. really, he tried his best to hold himself back, but when he rolled up to pick you up from a night out with your friends and saw you standing there, waiting for him on the side of the road in the skimpiest skirt you could have picked out, he’d completely lost it. it’s a miracle he was able contain himself for this long, because if it weren’t for you being surrounded by your friends, he would’ve fucked you right then and there. it’s also not his fault that you were teasing him at every red light he stopped at, playfully palming his hardening erection through his pants the entirety of the ride home. you clung on to his waist, tightly holding onto dear life as he sped through traffic lights— going way over the legal speed limit until he decided he’d simply had enough of your shit. you’d blame your behaviour on the alcohol coursing through your veins, but he’d blame it on you just being such a needy fucking whore.

satoru was not a patient man—this you knew a little too well. and that’s exactly why you found yourself bent over his sleek white and blue motorcycle in an empty parking lot, your skimpy skirt bunched up around your waist, panties pooled around your ankles, and eyes rolled to the back of your head while biker!satoru splits you open with his cock. "nngh f-fuck satoru s-slow down, please" you moaned desperately, unable to keep up with his frantic, impatient pace. "slow down? i can't slow down baby, not when you feel this fucking good" he drawled in reponse, breathing heavily, while drilling into you so deep you could practically feel your cervix bruising. "s-satoru— fuck" you whimpered, your warm walls clenching around his cock so tightly, inching you closer and closer to your sweet release by the second. "yeah sugar, fuck— you're such a good girl, taking my cock so well" he'd mutter, the sound of his honeyed voice sending pulsing shockwaves of pleasure through your body. and he'd continue fucking you stupid in this deserted parking lot, until you've both orgasmed at least once, twice maybe even three times. then you'd speed home on the back of his motorcycle, watching gojo weave through traffic, so he could get home a little faster and fuck you again.

[shoot-i-messed-up]

Was always worried about the angst of unrequited love, had never realized the sheer amount of comedic potential that it has.

Imagine one-sided Superbat where Clark is fully aware that Bruce has a crush on him but is being his repressed self about it, and Clark is just like, “I’m not gonna touch that :) you’re going to figure that out for yourself, buddy, and in the meantime, I’m just going to have a good time and be best friends with you as you inevitably pull yourself together enough to either fall out of love or to confess :) and I’ll just let you down gently because I care about you :)” but he absolutely 100% is using it to his advantage in the meantime. His puppy dog eyes had never been so effective before. He’s gotten out of Monitor Duty three times in the past month.

[oh-no-its-bird]

in Boruto they're like "the golden age of the shinobi world is over…" which kind of cracks me up because that means the "golden age of the shinobi" lasted like. A single generation, honestly.

Maybe two if you stretch, but that'd mean counting the multiple super ugly wars and shit, and I dont. Know if I'd count that as any sort of "golden age"

Tho maybe they're referencing the shinobi's overall power (over the general population people) …?

But also, if we say they aren't and are actually referencing the shinobi world prospering, that'd make it like…. From Kakashi being made Hokage to current year.

So like. 20 years, tops. (Giving a vague 10 to Kakashi and another vague to Naruto for their runs as Hokage)

Shit's equal parts depressing and hilarious tbh

I know that "era's" aren't really set periods in time but just refer to a major shift in life /culture or whatever but like. Pretend u don't know that idk, the thought amuses me so let me have this

The shinobi world gets 20 years that they universally agree on as really good, then it all goes back to shit. That's life, I guess

[uhhlifeig]

First Look - Jan. 17th - word count: 292 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus Lupin set down his stuff in an empty compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express.

He was about to start his first year in Hogwarts. He couldn’t be more excited.

He pulled a book out of his bag- The Picture of Dorian Gray- and began reading.

He was almost finished with chapter one when three boys burst in together, laughing raucously. Upon noticing him, they quieted considerably.

“Sorry for barging in here,” one of the boys said, stepping closer. He had messy dark hair and gold wire-rimmed glasses. “Can we stay with you, though? All the other compartments are full.”

“Sure,” Remus shrugged. It didn’t matter to him as long as they let him read.

“Great!” the boy grinned. “My name’s James Potter. Who’re you?”

“Remus Lupin. Pleasure,” Remus muttered, not really meaning it at all.

“Cool name,” James said. “This here’s Peter Pettigrew,” he pointed at the boy with mousy hair and blue eyes behind him. 

“Hi,” Peter said, waving shyly.

“And this one-” James grinned, motioning at the last boy.

“-knows how to introduce himself. Sirius Orion Black, pleasure to meet you,” he said, stepping forward and offering Remus his hand. 

The first thing that Remus noticed was that Sirius had ebony hair, an upturned nose, and striking silver eyes. 

The second thing that he noticed was that Sirius looked impeccably tailored and put together. 

This was the child that his parents wished he was, not some werewolf freak who hated socializing.

So, Remus listened to his spite.

He ignored the extended hand, glared at Sirius, and spat “fuck off,” returning to his book.

To his utter shock, Sirius started laughing.

“Oh, we are so gonna be friends,” he cackled.

Three years, eight months, and fifteen days later, they were more.

[dayas]

4 + klonnie, esp if in a TO rewrite! 💞

4 ⧽. kissing in the middle of an argument.

THIS IS SOOOO GAGGY EXACTLLYYY OMG

It’s been awhile since I’ve watched TO so bare with me 🙏🏽

—

New Orleans had become Bonnie Bennett’s home. The last time she’d considered a place home, her grandmother had been alive. It was a long time since then, but she finally felt like she found a place she truly belonged. Naturally, she was absolutely livid about being asked to leave.

“No! Klaus, I am not going anywhere.”

It was pure misfortune that Klaus Mikaelson remained unearthly beautiful even in the fits of rage he currently displayed.

“It’s not up for discussion, little witch.”

He hadn’t lost it, not yet, but she could see the anger burning brightly behind his dark blue eyes.

“The hell it isn’t! You know how important it is for me to be here. The witches, the coven, all of it. I can handle anything that comes my way.”

His laugh was harsh, sardonic.

“Really? Anything? Tell me, darling, can you handle armies of witches, vampires, and werewolves, all coming, ready to tear you limb from limb? Can you handle a relentless onslaught from them at all hours of the day and night, the manifestations of their hatred and hunger for power? Can you handle your so-called old friends returning and joining them, facing off against you because of where you align yourself now? Tell me, my dearest Bonnie, truly, can you handle it?”

“Yes I can!”

She didn’t care that she was shouting now. It felt good to shout, to scream out her emotions. Mystic Falls never gave her enough space to breathe. In New Orleans, she could scream her lungs out and keep coming up for air after if she wished to.

“Just because you don’t care for your own life does not mean others share the sentiment!”

He was shouting too now, and some sick, twisted part of her enjoyed it. She enjoyed the fact that she could anger the Hybrid King, that she alone could produce such heightened emotions from him. Maybe that’s why she’d come closer with every word, and why she held herself so straight as she neared him, yelling out, “Enlighten me, then! What exactly do you care for?”

Klaus’s gaze lit itself on fire. Bonnie’s eyes widened. His hands came up to her face, he pulled her in, and kissed her. She was frozen in shock for a single second. Then, she kissed him back with everything she had in her, clutching him as close as she could to her. They broke apart but he kept her flush against him, his forehead touching hers lightly.

“I’m staying,” Bonnie whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Bonnie — ” Klaus murmured, strained.

“No. We rule here. They will not chase us out.” She took his hand carefully, placing it between them to rest on her stomach. His fingers caressed the fabric, brushing back and forth over it.

“If they come for one of us, they are coming for all of us now.” She felt his sigh stir her hair, his palm flattening out against her belly.

“Then we will raze them all to the ground.”

That smile she loved, maniacal and bloodthirsty, rose into his lips.

Her own followed with it.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

gang. im doing it. im finally reading TGCF

[riddlemearose]

Twin Stranger

(CW: temporary character death)

“Champion!”

Link twists as much as he can, cursing under his breath as his arms wobble violently and the piece of rubble presses down harder onto his ribs. Wild drops into a crouch beside him, one hand squeezing Link’s shoulder. Link can't shy away from the touch like he usually does, but thankfully Wild doesn't let his hand linger.

“Are you hurt badly?” He asks.

Link shakes his head, gritting his teeth. The question, the implication of incompetence, stings. “Get it off.”

“Already on it.”

Wild reaches for the Sheikah Slate at his side but pauses, ears twitching. He twists on his heel, a shield quickly stitching itself into being from ribbons of Sheikah blue. A Guardian beam slams into the metal not even a second after Wild raises the shield, and the force of the blast makes his heels dig into the dirt.

Link strains his neck the best he can to look and kind of wishes he hadn’t. Several Guardian Stalkers – infected with malice, great – are scuttling across the grassy field towards them. The toxic magic drips off their legs and leaves burning pools in their wake.

Wild curses, hunkering closer to the ground so the shield can cover Link better. His eyes dart between the Guardians.

Link tries very hard not to look at the burns that cover his alternate self’s face. Everyone has been reticent to talk about just what, exactly, had happened to Wild, but the scars on his face and body say more than enough.

He’s been wondering if he and Wild – and every other version of them that may exist – are always doomed to fall to the Guardians. It’s something that’s been in the back of his mind over the last three days, ever since the stranger with his face arrived and helped free Mipha and Vah Ruta.

He doesn’t know if he’s ready to learn the answer to that question, to learn what fate has in store for him.

Wild breathes out hard through his nose and squares his shoulders. “Ah, fuck it.”

A Guardian beam slams into the shield, causing him to snarl. The metal begins to buckle and strain from the force. Link can feel the heat of the blast ripple through his hair.

Another Guardian starts to line up its shot; Link can hear it beeping rapidly.

Wild jams his eyes closed.

“I know you guys are there, and I know you can hear me.” He says softly, speaking to someone Link can’t see. “I need your help. Please.”

The air around them thickens. An unseen presence brushes kindly against Link’s forehead, and moves on to settle onto Wild’s shoulders.

When he opens his eyes, they glow slightly, illuminated by something inside him that hadn’t been there before. He grins at Link. “It’s gonna be okay, Champion.”

The beeping of the Guardian reaches a fever-pitch. Link knows Wild’s shield will not hold this time. He takes a breath, wanting his last one to be peaceful, and whispers an apology to Princess Zelda and to his family. He thinks of his little sister, remembering her bright, toothy smile.

The Guardian lets its beam loose.

Someone very familiar yells.

Fire erupts around them as the world turns teal and orange.

Link stares as Daruk appears out of the teal fire, his Protection closing around them. The Guardian beam ricochets off the barrier and sets the meadow to their right ablaze. Smoke and burned blades of grass eddy into the air.

Daruk looks down at Link, eyes solemn and sad, and vanishes.

Wild, on the other hand, lets his shield fall to the ground with a dull thud, and takes off in a full sprint, pulling the Master Sword from his Slate as he goes. The blade chimes loudly, glowing a bright, divine light.

For a moment, just like it’s done every time Wild has held it, Link hears a soft whisper of “Master,” on the wind.

It’s hard to watch from this angle, but Wild streaks across the meadow, cleaving straight through one of the Guardian’s legs. As it topples, unbalanced by the sudden loss, he leaps up and buries the Master Sword to the hilt in its eye.

As the Guardian begins to flash and shudder, Wild drops into a crouch. Five targeting lasers lock on and spirit flame dances around him once again.

This time it’s Revali who appears and launches him skyward with barely a second to spare. As the five Guardian lasers destroy the ground where Wild had just been, he plucks a bow from the Slate and pulls the drawstring back.

The world slows to a crawl, the sudden deprivation of sound making Link’s ears ring. He watches as Wild lets ancient arrow after ancient arrow fly all while Revali’s ghostly form swoops around him, using his Gale to slow Wild’s descent.

Each arrow finds its mark, striking the Guardians’ blue-fire eyes. Revali turns his head, barely slowed by the Champion ability Link and Wild share, and meets Link’s gaze head-on. Just like Daruk, Revali looks solemn, but he still throws a mock-salute Link’s way.

Wild lands in a roll as time snaps back to normal. The Guardians around him explode, purple smoke twisting up towards the blue sky. As he gets to his feet, another Guardian laser flies towards him and slams into Daruk’s Protection a second before it would've hit Wild. He still staggers from the surprise of the hit, and the three remaining Guardians close the distance rapidly.

Daruk doesn't vanish this time. He murmurs something, inaudible over the clanging of the Guardians’ legs, but Wild nods. The Master Sword chimes again, the sound almost vicious, and Wild raises his free hand, snapping his fingers.

Daruk’s figure is replaced by Urbosa's. She tosses her hair and bares her teeth as lightning strikes all around them. As the Guardians freeze, circuits shorting out, she turns to seek Link out, and her proud expression softens into one of sympathy.

She snaps her fingers again, raining more lightning down onto the Guardians. Wild darts around her, a blur of blonde hair and divine light carving through the Guardians’ legs and chassis with ease.

The Guardians crumble beneath the Master Sword’s blade, malice wisping up into the sky above as they explode, and Urbosa’s form gently fades away.

All that’s left behind is Wild standing amidst the destroyed husks. He begins picking his way towards Link, carefully stepping around the puddles of malice strewn across the grass. Link watches him, a million different emotions swirling around inside him, with frustration and bitterness chief among them.

It’s not the first time Wild’s saved him, but he still doesn’t know how he's supposed to feel about it. He's not given the chance to decide though, because two things happen in quick succession.

The first is the Master Sword, sheathed on Wild’s back, lets out a furious chime that's so loud it echoes in Link’s ears. The second is one final Guardian comes charging over the crest of the hill.

Its targeting sight finds Link’s pinned body, blue energy already gathering around its eye as it beeps rapidly.

He sees Wild whirl around to face it, mouth open as he yells. Instinctively, both he and Link pull on their Champion ability in a vain attempt to stretch the seconds out, but the world only stutters, time tripping for a moment before carrying forward undaunted.

The laser flies true. Link thinks he manages to scream before everything goes black.

He floats within oblivion, surrounded by nothingness until someone's hands reach out to cup his face. Teal light dances behind his eyelids.

"LINK!"

He chokes on a cough, wheezing, and feels hands roll him onto his side.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, just breathe." A high, panicked voice chatters above him, holding him steady.

Someone else is talking too, someone Link recognises. He struggles against the hands holding him and manages to end up on his back again.

Wild cradles his head carefully, letting Link come to rest in his lap. His face is bloodless and pale. Mipha sits beside him, shimmering with teal flames.

She smiles when his gaze lands on her and reaches a hand out to rest against his cheek. The touch is so cold it burns against his skin, and Link barely suppresses his flinch.

Mipha's eyes are so, so sad.

"Rest, Link." She tells him, voice distant as she begins to fade away. "You're safe now. You're going to be okay."

Link stares at her disappearing form, swallowing back another wave of bitterness that clogs his throat. He doesn’t look at Wild.

Mipha’s grief-stricken eyes are the last thing he sees before fatigue pulls him under.

(This is now a full fic on AO3, which you can read here)

[muirmarie]

Me: I joke about writing the same McCoy centric story over and over again in different ways

Me: and like. I love doing it and imma keep doing it because it makes me happy.

Me: but also. I do sometimes wonder if it's like. A little Much.

Me: like maybe I should branch out or something

Me: [reads another fundamental and extremely insulting misread of McCoy's character by someone who is clearly making a Choice to cast McCoy as the villain, because they have to get him out of the way of spirk, because they're too???? idk immature??? to realize that even when you're in a relationship with one person, other ppl can and SHOULD still be important to you]

Me: lmao I hope I AM too much actually!!!! I hope it is 100% obnoxious how much I love that doctor!!!!! Time to write more versions of the same story of McCoy being forced to realize that he is loved and cared for!!!!!!

Me: I KNOW MY NICHE AND IMMA DIE IN THAT NICHE, THANKS

[blackwood4stucky]

i scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream | aspen blackwood

steve rogers x james "bucky" barnes | mcu

masterpost | mini playlist

🆃 | word count: 1,110 | complete

tags: quiet horror, omegaverse, bucky-centric

The members of the Rogers family were unpacking their boxes, two rented U-Hauls sitting in front of their new house, when Bucky first heard it, the ice cream song playing from the truck down the street. It was a familiar little jingle, one he had heard for many years where he used to live. Such a tune usually brought joy, everyone loves ice cream.

It was late October by the time the Rogers relocated to a new community in East End, New Hampshire. Their neighbors were getting into the spirit of Halloween what with all the decorations strewn about the block. Fake webs and spiders covered many front lawns while homemade ghosts and ghouls blew in the cool autumn winds. It seemed that everyone in the community was participating from the sheer amount of laughter that could be heard all around them. Bucky decided then that they all would have to participate as well, how could they not? It was his favorite time of the year, family tradition dictated that they celebrate and he would not forsake that ritual. If only they could get everything done in a timely fashion. Looking at his little family though, he could see that his alpha and their daughter were worn out. Even their cat, Alpine, was lying about in the grass. Perhaps it was a good time to pause and take a break now that the ice cream truck was there. He had just begun digging his hands around in his pocket for change when little Sarah tugged on his pant leg.

“Mommy, why is everyone leaving?” His daughter’s voice sounded so small even though he knew Sarah’s curiosity was so big, the little girl could get into so much mischief if left to her own devices.

Glancing up, Bucky saw that Sarah was right though. Their new neighbors had all but dropped their various decorations to scramble for the doors. Even the pets knew the drill. With his heightened hearing, he could hear the telltale sound of locking mechanisms and whispers coming from inside of the houses on the block. Perturbed, but not one to stick around for danger, Bucky followed suit and beckoned for his husband, Steve, and little Sarah to do the same. Taking whatever they held in their hands, the Rogers family hastily went inside and closed their doors, making sure the deadbolt was securely in place. The song from the ice cream truck grew louder and louder, the pitch taking on a strange note at the end, one that caused a chill to run down Bucky’s spine. It wasn’t until a pained yelp rang out a moment later that they all realized Alpine was still outside.

Ever since that day, life went on as normal for rest of the members of the East End community. Bucky, on the other hand, developed trust issues. Not a single one of their new neighbors batted an eye when he and Steve asked what was up with the ice cream truck, when they questioned their new neighbors on the whereabouts of their beloved pet. All anyone ever had to say on the matter was when the ice cream song plays, you best get inside, don’t come out until it’s over, even then don’t come out until the day is over. If you’re caught outside when the song plays, you best pray for it to be over soon. For if you see the heads, if you see the eyes, it’s over. It’s over, it’s over for you.

Bucky had begun to question their decision to move to East End then. All the research he put into finding this community didn’t seem to be yielding the results it should have. All the reviews he read boasted of its exclusivity and safety for all sorts of people. All the interviews he and Steve had gone through were a testament to how serious East End appeared to take its application process. It all was supposed to result in a sanctuary. He knew his little family was different. Heightened senses, enhanced agility, and a less than stellar diet certainly didn’t make it easy for them to settle down. This was supposed to be their big break. He didn’t know how wrong he was.

A few weeks later, Bucky, Steve, and Sarah were enjoying the cool play day in breeze on their front lawn, when they heard it, the ice cream song playing from the truck down the street. Bucky and Steve were wary but gathered what was immediately around them to head inside.

“Excuse me.” A little voice called out from behind Bucky. “I missed you last time. May I have some ice cream, please?”

Turning around, Bucky saw their daughter standing in front of the ice cream truck with her little hand outstretched. His eyes widened when he got a good look at the truck. It was all white with a strange black symbol painted on the side facing their home, a sea creature with multiple bulbous heads and tentacles. To his utter horror, a familiar pale red light had begun to shine through the window on the driver’s side. It was one that bought horrific memories from his past, flashes of torture and pain.

“Sarah, get away from that truck!” Bucky’s body moved like a flash before he could even issue it a command, fear gripping his heart as he snatched the child up from the edge of the sidewalk. It was only when something cold and tight gripped at his leg as it latched onto his skin, that he realized his grave mistake. “Take her and get inside, lock the doors!”

“No! Not without you!” Steve had materialized at his side to take Sarah into his arms but he refused to leave. “I won’t leave you, not again.”

“You have to!” He groaned in pain and looked down at his leg, it was wrapped in some sort of chain with barbs that dug into his flesh holding him in place. There was no way he would let them get ahold of his entire family, there was no way in hell he would give Hydra a real win. Bucky’s fear was to be ripped from his daughter, from Steve, his husband and mate. It was his greatest fear to be returned back into the clutches of those that created monsters like him and Steve. All the while, that ice cream truck played its haunting song. It tormented him as he prayed for a swift end that he knew would never come. The first time the Rogers family heard the ice cream song, they lost their pet. The second time they heard it, the Rogers family lost Bucky.

[freaktoru]

Saw ur igris post and the threesome part w jinwoo but bellion would def join or watch 😔🙏

anon i'm actually obsessed with ur mind (give it to me). here's a little drabble on how i think this dynamic would play out:

⋆˙⟡ — cw; double penetration, anal, threesome

you've never felt so fucked out in your life.

you currently find yourself stuffed full with two cocks—one belonging to your loving boyfriend, sung jinwoo, and the other, to his right hand man, igris.

you're not sure how you found yourself here, but here's a little recap: you and jinwoo were mid sex when igris walked in, supposedly with urgent news for jinwoo. then one thing quickly led to another and somehow igris's cock was now buried deep in your ass. oops!

“that's it, good girl” jinwoo mutters the sweet praise, strengthening his grip on your waist as you sink down on the last few inches of his cock.

igris and jinwoo are buried deep inside you, thankfully staying still until you adjust. your breathing is heavy and raspy, head hanging low and nails digging deep into jinwoo’s biceps. you're positioned on top of jinwoo’s cock, while igris is sheathed deep inside from behind you at the edge of the bed.

your cheeks burn from the sheer humiliation of being fucked raw by not only your boyfriend, but his also his right hand man. but you can’t even get yourself to care when you feel so fucking good—and so fucking full.

jinwoo would start moving slowly first, making igris wait until you get adjusted to the feeling. but igris is not patient. no, he would only be able to hold out for another few minutes before tangling his fingers into your hair and pounding into you from behind.

it’s just too much. you’re already a sobbing, whining mess—being fucked absolutely stupid on not one but two cocks, when another one of jinwoo’s shadows, bellion would walk in.

bellion, being the strongest and oldest of jinwoo’s shadows, he wouldn’t join—at least not yet. he’d plop himself down in the armchair in the corner, lazily spread his legs, and lean back—because bellion likes to watch.

having an audience only increases the humiliating burn on your cheeks, but also the arousing burn in your core.

“jinwoo, i didn’t know your girl was so dirty” he’d chuckle deeply, slowly moving his hand down to palm himself through his pants.

“fuck yeah— she sure is ” his reply comes out in between ragged breaths, his attention too focused on the way you take his and igris’s cocks.

hair disheveled, cheeks streaked with tears and tits bouncing with every thrust—it might have been the most beautiful sight they'd all ever seen.

“what a pretty girl” bellion mutters, eyes fixed on you while he fists his hard cock. he can’t help it.

and only when igris and jinwoo finish round one, would he come up, flip your limp body over, and fuck you himself.

[rouge-the-bat]

yu yu hakusho three kings arc but theres intense demon politics and an actual war instead of Dark Tournament 2.0: The Lesser Version and yusuke isnt suddenly Actually Has Been Mister McSpecial Guy All Along with mazoku blood and is still Just Some Dude with the power of stupid luck and friendship on his side and also KUWABARA IS STILL THERE AND SIGNIFICANT!!!!!!!! AND BOTAN DOES SHIT BESIDES JUST WATCHING THE GUYS DO THINGS !!!!! AND FURTHER EXPLORATION INTO FUCKING UP KURAMA AND HIEIS MENTAL STATES ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YAY SUFFERING!! WITH A BONUS OF KURAHI MUTUAL GAY YEARNING THATS FINALLY EXPOSED WHEN THEY MANAGE TO SNEAK A MEETING AND SEEK COMFORT IN EACH OTHER. and also a sprinkle of some making fun of yomi for my amusement. all this and more in the current brewing ideas of a three kings rewrite in my head right now

[rosesofenvy]

@potato-lord-but-not I’m working on a few edits of the boys but this thought has had me in a chokehold since I heard the song snippet

Post it's based on!

Fic I wrote for this HERE!

[mania-sama]

oikawa always knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. from the moment he saw jose blanco when they were seven years old, he became certain that he would be a professional player. before he was old enough to understand how long it would take or how much energy it would require, oikawa was telling iwaizumi what number jersey he would wear on the national team.

iwaizumi loved volleyball. there was no question about it; he loved the weight against his fingers as he lightly tossed it in the air. he loved the green and brown bruises littering his arms, proving he fought and played well. he loved crouching on the court with five other people, waiting in bated breath to score the next point. he loved the sound the ball made when he spiked it to the ground with enough power to shake the net. he loved springing in the air and diving to the ground.

he loved watching his teammates glow with pride at every point earned, at every win. he loved having support during the hard losses. he loved oikawa, who threw himself so deeply into the sport that it made iwaizumi try that much harder, practice that much longer, want to win that much more.

but, he always knew his love came at a price.

he could see himself playing professionally. he knew that he'd only want to do it if oikawa would be on the court with him. he knew he was only as good as he was when the best high school setter in miyagi brought out his talents. he knew that, at the end of the day, his drive to be an Olympic athlete was crutched by his best friend.

oikawa had developed it alone, separate from iwaizumi. iwaizumi could recognize that, and that was what set them apart.

iwaizumi didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up. he threw around ideas in his head, every now and then. he knew he couldn't do a corporate job. he'd seen the way men fell asleep in bushes and in shops, never making it home, then waking up again to return to where they worked. it sounded like hell and misery, so he threw it out immediately. he supposed he wouldn't mind traveling the world, but he didn't know where he'd get the funds for that. he didn't care much for history or archaelogy, and those master's and phd's would be what would get him places. he even settled on the military for a time, if he really couldn't figure what he wanted from life by the time he graduated.

then, like dominos, everything began to fall into place. it started like this:

in his third year of middle school, he injured his wrist. he had to see the athletic trainer twice a week, for those were the days the trainer was available to assist the volleyball clubs. his mother was a nurse, so she made sure he kept up with his ice and stretches at home. he cared for himself and the trainer cared for him, coaching him through certain workouts and tracking his progress on a clipboard. he admired the trainer for the first time in his life. not because he was caring for iwaizumi specifically, but because iwaizumi was seeing all of it work. the ice, the workouts, the way his wrist gradually heals until he feels no pain anymore. he found himself curious about the clipboard, though he never asked.

oikawa overworked his ankle and twisted it in their first year of high school. iwaizumi's injury had been minor, but oikawa's was considerably worse. he limped as he walked, and iwaizumi went online and nearly keeled over when the results told him that oikawa would die in the next twenty-four days, that his ankle would never heal properly. mother iwaizumi was far more rational, and their trainer was available four of the five days of the work week, so oikawa was functionally okay. it didn't stop bothering iwaizumi, though. he was by oikawa's side the whole time despite their new friends', matsukawa and hanamaki, teasing. when oikawa allowed him, he examined the twisted ankle, pressing his fingers against the bone, carefully tracing the slightly discolored skin.

he started volunteering at the hospital when he could, though he found he didn't enjoy the atmosphere much. he saw charts, though. he started to get an idea of what was on the paper on the clipboard. that, he enjoyed. he enjoyed seeing patients walk away with grins at good news, and he eavesdropped on nurses and doctors discussing diagnoses he didn't fully understand. his favorites were the ones of athletes, good or bad. shin splints, they said with relief. tendonitis. dislocation. a torn acl, they gasped after coming out of a screaming girl's room.

someone caught wind of his volunteering. during a training camp, a fidgeting player from a different team corners him outside. he asked if iwaizumi had anything, anything, anything at all, though preferably xanax. please, man, he begged. i know you work at a hospital. i'll pay you back. i just- i think somebody stole mine out of my bag a while ago. i can't get through this weekend. hook me up? iwaizumi denied him, told him to get help, told a trusted adult because although he knew it was "uncool" and he was a "snitch", the kid was shaking and knee-deep in drug addiction, and iwaizumi couldn't ignore it no matter how hard he tried. his skin burned from where the guy grabbed him to plead. his tongue was dry from when he tried to gently let him down the first time. his head hurts from the idea betraying his peers, even though he knew they would cover his ass if he had alcohol on him.

they lose to shiratorizawa for the second time in high school, and oikawa tried to get himself another overworked limb. iwaizumi shouted, and shouted, and shouted, and he dragged oikawa out of the gym more nights than not. he sat with him when oikawa was determined to give himself dry-eye from watching volleyball matches all hours of the day. he kept oikawa going.

that addict player died over an overdose over the summer, the news hitting him at the same time as the rest of the miyagi volleyball community. and he started to understand. he understood the way the kid - for though he was older than iwaizumi, he was still just a kid - would react slowly to block the ball, or how he would twitch before his serve. he understood the first time oikawa hurt his ankle, how it had been nothing like iwaizumi’s wrist injury, or how taking xanax during a training camp was nothing like camping out in a basement with a couple of friends and a case of cheap liquor store beer.

on the first full day back to school in their second year, hanamaki pulled iwaizumi aside and said that matsukawa had passed out briefly on the train ride over. iwaizumi didn't know what to do, necessarily, or what it could mean that matsukawa passed out for seemingly no reason, but he decided to keep an eye out. he watched him at practice. watched the way he was slow to block, blinking blearily, swaying on his feet. it could be sleep deprivation, but matsukawa had said he wasn't tired. his second thought was of that player the year prior. he watched, and as much as it pained him, he waited. he waited until they could all get ramen together, because for one reason or another matsukawa found a reason to bail out of after-school food runs. when matsukawa got up to use the bathroom after finishing his food, iwaizuimi waited one, two, three, ten seconds to follow, similarly excusing himself. he listened to matsukawa heave and wretch, and he sat there until matsukawa came out, one hand hastily wiping his mouth. he froze when he saw iwaizumi, and it must've been something on his face, must've been the memory of how he failed to help a kid who was now six feet underground, because matsukawa broke down into tears. i can't stop. i can't, he said. i need to do this to be better at volleyball. i can't gain more weight. it'll bring me down. don't make me stop.

iwaizumi made him do one thing: see the athletic trainer. he got the athletic trainer to give them advice on a diet that would both build muscle and increase their overall health. iwaizumi sent matsukawa on his way with a detailed regimen, but he himself stayed behind with the trainer. he asked, doing his best to remain neutral: which do you think is more important? mental health or physical injuries?

after a while of deliberation, he got received the trainers honest answer. physical injuries. athletes can get severely stressed and disordered after even a minor injury.

iwaizumi nodded. how do i become an athletic trainer?

go to school, the trainer said, smiling. study hard.

taking that to heart, he left. he left with a plan: to go to university, study hard, and write a paper proving that trainer wrong. his paper would be on the psychology behind sports injuries, how its the state of an athelete's mental health that causes injuries. he would then work as an athletic trainer, and he wouldn't let a kid like oikawa overwork themselves, or kids like that player accost underclassmen and overdose, or kids like matsukawa avoid food and expel what little they consumed. because they all wanted one thing. to play better, to be better. and iwaizumi wanted to be there for them, to tell them that a game wasn't worth their lives.

he wanted to be there for the middle school kid with a wrist injury, whos only wish was to keep playing with his best friend.

iwaizumi studied hard. he researched and researched, and he kept volunteering at the hospital even though he hated the smell of sterile rooms and the miserable faces of interns and residents and the floor that housed most of the terminally ill. he shadowed the trainer as they worked with other seijoh clubs when he had the time. he worked, and he cared for oikawa and his various discreet attempts at overworking himself to death.

in his third year of high school, an acceptance letter from the university of california, his top choice of school, arrives at his front door with a full-ride scholarship.

[baeshijima]

bitches will still be crying over the high-cloud quintet at 2 am months later and never get over them

its me. im bitches.

[lgwilt]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thanks for the tags @insert-witty-user-name-here, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening and @blackbirdofasgard!

A few sentences from my angsty time slipping wip (which is slowly merging with another wip to become an uncontrollable all-consuming entity).

--

Loki clenched his jaw as the aftershocks reverberated through his body, every nerve ending alight with pain. He’d been yanked from outside R&A and pushed back again so fast his head was spinning, the corridor a bewildering blur of subterranean blues and bilious greens. 

“You’re ok, Loki—just relax, take a breath. It’s gonna be ok…” 

Loki wanted to ask how he could possibly be expected to “relax” when he might start time slipping again at literally any moment (a deceptively innocuous way to describe the experience of being violently pulled in a million different directions at once, stretched and scattered and compressed again, ripped from reality atom-by-atom and reconstituted in the blink of an eye), but right now he didn’t trust himself to speak, let alone form coherent sentences.

“C’mon,” Mobius murmured, taking hold of his arm and gently but firmly steering him down the snaking corridor. “There’s a spare office down here somewhere, just a few more steps…”

--

Tagging @mirilyawrites @dewdropreader @starport-seven-five and very open invitation anyone else who sees this, for this week or next - I love reading these tantalising snippets 💚